


Red Violations

by thecarlysutra



Category: Thunderheart (1992)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-22
Updated: 2010-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-13 23:32:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecarlysutra/pseuds/thecarlysutra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SUMMARY: Ray is just useful for all kinds of things.<br/>AUTHOR’S NOTES: Prompt from <a href="http://mundane-bingo.dreamwidth.org/">Mundane Bingo</a>, which I am not so much playing as plundering: <i>traffic police stop you for an ‘infringement’</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Violations

  
It’s not like he’d made a list or anything, but he was a reasonable man, and Crow Horse’d had several reasons for bringing Ray along to Minneapolis. Ray’d been working for the tribal PD for about a year, but Crow Horse had long since started going to him first when he needed a different perspective on things, so taking him to the law enforcement expo was a given. Plus, it was a long drive and Crow Horse’d make better time if he didn’t have to make it alone. But mostly he brought Ray for the company. The thought of spending all that time cramped up in the cab of the truck, the small motel room, with anyone else he could have brought just wasn’t as appealing as the thought of spending it cooped up with Ray. Terry had really wanted to go, and it might not have been a bad idea to shiny up his police work—his fourth year at the station, and Crow Horse was still afraid to take him off dispatch—but the thought of two ten-hour drives stuck in the sardine can with Terry made Crow Horse’s teeth hurt. He was a sweet kid, really, but he had no common sense at all, and he could never tell when he needed to stop talking. Plus, if Terry’d accidentally shot someone at the expo, Crow Horse probably wouldn’t have been invited back, and the tribal PD needed the free credentialing.

Crow Horse’s reasons didn’t include Ray saving him from fine and embarrassment, but it turned out that happened, too.

Ray was supposed to take over driving at Sioux Falls, but he’d been trying to nap, and had told Crow Horse if he kept on until Mitchell Ray would suck his dick off when they got there, and that was hard logic to argue with. That was maybe an hour away, and Ray was starting to wake up, stretching sluggishly, blinking the sun out of his eyes. As the warm cocoon of sleep faded, Ray watched the landscape until the prairie monotone started to make him sleepy again, and then he fiddled with the radio, surfing through static.

“Haven’t had a signal for miles,” Crow Horse said, “and I wouldn’t count on one for a while, either.”

Ray leaned back in his seat. He watched Crow Horse watching the road.

“You getting tired yet?”

“No. You thinking of backing out?”

Ray’s mind was still lazy with sleep. “Huh?”

Crow Horse chuckled. “Never mind, _kola_.”

For miles they hadn’t shared the road with so much as a coyote. Then, unfolding suddenly from the horizon like one of those Japanese fancy paper birds, there was a police cruiser behind them, carousel lights flashing. Crow Horse cursed, and eased the truck to the side of the road.

“You speeding?”

“No.” Crow Horse glanced at the state trooper, a _Wasi’chu_ guy in big shades, advancing in the rearview. “Prob’ly a red violation.”

“Huh?”

“You know—driving while Indian.”

Ray frowned. He straightened in his seat, and worked his wallet into his hand.

Crow Horse rolled his window down; he had his papers for the statey before the guy even got there.

“Afternoon, officer,” he said. “How can I help you?”

The trooper frowned over Crow Horse’s license.

“Crow Horse,” he said slowly. “That your Indian name? What’s your real name?”

“‘Crow Horse’ is the only name I got. Maybe I was absent, enit, when they were givin’ out the _real_ names.”

“Excuse me, officer,” Ray said quietly.

“I’m not talking to you, son,” the statey said.

Ray nodded. Crow Horse studied his face with some interest; Ray was wearing the calm, confident expression of a seasoned lion tamer.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “I’m just required to inform you that we are both police officers, and we are wearing our sidearms.”

Ray dropped down his wallet to show his ID—his Fed ID, Walter noticed, not his tribal PD badge. With the other hand, he motioned to the gun on his hip.

The statey blinked at Ray’s ID. Then he looked down at Ray’s gun, and then back to his ID.

“Can I see that?” he asked finally.

“Certainly,” Ray said, and reached over Crow Horse to hand the trooper his wallet.

The statey studied it for a long time.

“FBI,” he said finally.

“Yes, sir,” Ray said. “Special Agent Ray Levoi. This is my partner, Walter Crow Horse.”

The trooper stared at Ray’s ID for another long moment, like he expected it to transform at any second. Finally, he handed both wallets back.

“Sorry for the trouble, gentlemen,” he said. “Just doing routine traffic stops, you know.”

“No problem,” Ray said, easing his wallet back into his pocket. “You’re doing a fine job, officer.”

The statey grinned goofily, thanked Ray, and walked back to his car.

As the trooper’s cruiser disappeared down the long highway, Crow Horse goggled at Ray the best he could while keeping a cursory eye on the road.

“You just lied to the police,” he said finally.

“I did not,” Ray said. “We _are_ both police officers; I _am_ with the FBI; you _are_ my partner. When did I lie?”

Crow Horse shook his head, but he was laughing.

“I knew you were the right man to bring along.”  



End file.
